


Writ Of Hearts

by Talonticus



Series: Arrow and Spider [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Drama, Established Relationship, F/F, Humor, Romance, Sexual Tension, TESO: Morrowind storyline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talonticus/pseuds/Talonticus
Summary: The last thing Samyrwe would've expected upon her arrival in Vvardenfell was that she'd get the chance for another intimate bout with her favorite assassin. All she needs to do in order to enjoy it is solve a House Redoran family drama. How difficult can it be?





	1. Wet theatrics

**Author's Note:**

> _Hello there! Claire Talon, or Talonticus, here with another TESO fic. It's been a while since I wrote anything for this fandom, but I was very inspired after recently playing through the Morrowind expansion._
> 
> _I've written two fics with Samyrwe and Naryu previously. The Eastern Friction was the last one, which was planned to be a multi-part fic, but I changed my mind._   
>  _I thought about putting this story into TEF, but then realized it works better as a separate fic, since it isn't "random moments", but five very specific ones related to the Vvardenfell storyline. You could say it's a partial retelling, or elaboration on what's available in game. Essentially, it's just a way for me to expand upon their relationship and include Veya. Because I love her._
> 
> _You don't need to read the other stories to get what their relationship is about, as I've never gone much into the details, but they're available if you want to. I have also recently cleaned them up a bit, as they needed some editing._   
>  _I've got a few screenshots of Samyrwe[here](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/samyrwe.html) for visual reference. She wears that Thieves Guild outfit most of the time._

Sour putrid stenches of swamp water along the Bitter Coast, the croaking song of insects, the incessant squawking of hungry cliff racers and a cloudy dismal sky. Not the most romantic of settings, even by her standards.  
Naryu tries to wipe and dust off her clothes, though it isn’t an easy task. She stepped in some rather murky pools earlier while she was trying to slit that damn squirming orc’s throat. And these are new leathers too, which she paid good coins for. Ah well, she’ll survive. Hopefully, she can find a nice cozy spot to warm up in later, especially with her new company.

Trying to steady herself, she musters what courage crawls beneath her thick veneer and takes a deep breath. It’s almost silly how excited she feels at this opportunity, to finally lay her eyes on the beauty before her. It’s been quite a long time, too long in fact, and while she’d adamantly deny any claims to the contrary, she has yearned for this occasion. How few people in this sordid land manages to induce such reactions within her?

The lovely golden blonde hair, the warm golden skin, and those brilliant yellow eyes; the whole visage draped in brown cloth and slices of leather, hugging her tall and marginally toned physique. She’s like a beacon of resplendent majesty and yet Naryu knows that’s a façade, a cleverly deceptive exterior, hiding a depraved truth.  
Well, that may be a faulty description. Samyrwe is certainly not as benevolent and virtuous as some of the populace believes, but she’s not exactly Morag Tong material either. She cares too much.

Naryu folds her arms over her chest and flashes her trademark smirk towards her companion. She makes no effort to hide her improper survey of the other woman’s body. It’s not to tease, but to play her anticipated role.  
“Well, well, _well_ …the King’s Arrow. This was not at all who I expected to run into this afternoon. And I didn’t even get a chance to freshen myself up.”

Another predictable reaction is the pleasant smile she receives in return from the altmer, a sight that sends tingling sensations through Naryu’s chest. She’s disgustingly and irresistibly sweet with that look.  
“You’re always top-notch, Virian”, she professes in her rather smooth voice, accent matching one originating in central regions of Morrowind.

“And you brought an abundance of flattery as well. Marvelous.”  
She slides her hands down to her hips and begin to sway them as she saunters closer.  
“Have to say, when I woke up this morning, the last thought on my mind was ‘You know what would brighten this day? Getting exceedingly wet on the coast with my favorite hero’.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, places one hand on the hilt of the blade attached to her belt, as the other corrects the bow hanging over her shoulder.  
“Really? I thought that’s all you ever think about.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong – I have fantasies involving you, darling. An ample supply. The most sinful visions you could ever imagine. They’d make your precious ‘Mother’ envious, I assure you.”

Once she reaches Sam’s location, she lifts her hands, grabs the altmer’s arms and pulls her close enough for their bodies to touch, well within private territory. Seizing Sam’s top, she drags the other woman into an intense kiss. One hand runs a few fingers into the blonde hair, stirring the neat setup, while the other sneakily slides to the taller elf’s posterior, squeezing it eagerly. There’s a delightful, yet muffled gasp from the altmer, before her arms slip around Naryu’s shoulders, letting herself be taken.

After it temporarily subsides, she parts her lips with a slightly overwhelmed Sam, which pleases her immensely. If there’s anything more satisfying than smooching this fine lady, it’s knowing how much of an effect she has on her. Gives her a sense of smug triumph.  
“Mm. That will do, for now.”

Takes a moment or two, but Sam manages to regain her wits, releasing a chuckle as she nuzzles the dunmer’s cheek.  
“…and here I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Foolish. You’ll never get the better of me, hero.”

“That overconfidence will come back to bite you one day.”

Naryu disentangles herself somewhat, giving them both some space, but she still runs her hands over the altmer’s clothes, trying to slither her hands under the shirt to touch Sam’s belly.  
“So, you’re on Vvardenfell. You must be pleased with yourself, standing on hallowed ground, or whatever you call it.”

Sam displays a small smirk and now that she has the chance, she strokes her fingers over Naryu’s black hair, hanging in a less restrained fashion than her own.  
“Immeasurably so.”

“Does that mean we’re not due for a rumble in Balmora’s bathhouse later?”

With a mild sense of embarrassment, Sam clears her throat.  
“Well…I never excluded the prospect.”

Naryu grins, but stifles her exhilaration for now. Have to save the passion for later.  
“Thought so. Something tells me you’re not here for me, however, as disappointing as that is.”

“Don’t think I’d sail across Pact territory for you?”

“I’d like to say yes, but I’m not vain enough.”

“Hmm, doubtful.”

The assassin pokes her lover’s nose playfully, not wanting to hear any criticism of her personality. At least Sam giggles, which is like music to her ears.  
“Let me guess – the Thieves Guild wants you to steal a valuable artifact? Hmm, no. That seems too risky.”

“It’s not outside the realm of possibility.”

“I sincerely doubt they’re bold or foolish enough to challenge the ire of the Tribunal. Nor are you, for that matter.”

Sam isn’t trying to fool her…girlfriend? It’s difficult to define their relationship in any conventional way. Both are attracted to and care for one another, but also entertain other avenues. Either way, she prefers being frank with Naryu.  
“You’re right, I came here for unrelated business”, she admits. “I’m here to assist with some of the predicaments around the isle. During my journey to the west, I ran into a man who requisitioned my services. Called himself Eris Releth, of House Redoran.”

It is quite an unexpected response, but Naryu’s good mood practically vanishes in an instant and she appears disgruntled with this revelation, perhaps even let down.  
“Well, that’s not what I wished to hear out of your mouth. You’re working for that s’wit?”

Sam is a little taken aback by the harsh tone Naryu utilizes and even more so that the dunmer retreats.  
“Uh, I’m not exactly working _for_ him, as much as lending a helping hand. I am still a freelancer, after all.”

Naryu takes a deep and frustrated breath, while she covers her eyes with a hand.  
“True enough, but you’re making a mistake, Sam. Eris is a man you don’t want to be associated with, and someone that you most of all should stay away from.”

It can’t be denied how thrilled Sam had been with the idea of cooperating once more with one she cares for to such an extent, but this entire twist has her perplexed.  
“Why would you say that? All he wants to do is find his daughter, Naryu.”

The dunmer rolls her eyes and crosses her arms again. She now stares skeptically at Sam.  
“Ugh. He’s chasing after Veya _again_ , is he? Well, he can forget it. And so can you. She isn’t available to either of you. End of story.”

When Naryu gets serious, one has to proceed with delicate progress, an aspect Sam is very well aware of, which is why she tries to be careful.  
“And why not?”

“She’s going through a strenuous situation at this moment and doesn’t need any meddling, least of all from outsiders.”

Sam looks at her in a doubtful manner.  
“I’m an outsider now, am I?”

Naryu groans, annoyed both with this scenario and herself.  
“You know what I mean, Sam.”

“I don’t get it, though. Why would this be such a bad thing? Eris seemed like a typical Redoran, sure, but he’s only worried for his child. Isn’t that what a father should do?”

The assassin still doesn’t seem completely convinced. She narrows her eyes, scrutinizing Sam’s expression for layers of potential deceit.  
“This is what he told you?”

“Is he wrong?”

Naryu’s aggravation grows and she sighs, waves her hand dismissively and turns away.  
“Sam, just…leave, alright? I don’t want you to get embroiled in this. You’re too good for it.”

Unfortunately, Sam has no intentions of surrendering now. She furrows her brow and tries to circle around, to face her lover yet again.  
“What’s this about, Naryu? Is it the Morag Tong? Have they recruited her? This is what made Eris anxious.”

“Hah!”, she exclaims in a sarcastic fashion. “He’s concerned _she_ might be tainted by _us_ , is he? Such a noble pile of guar dung.”

Sam exhales through her nose and wraps arms around herself. She has ended up in a real sorry mess.  
“I don’t understand what’s going on here. Talk to me, Naryu. What is it I’m not seeing?”

Despite her inherent reluctance, Naryu sharply shifts to Sam and stares unyieldingly.  
“He didn’t tell you about Veya’s brother, did he? How he exiled his own son from the House?”

Sam widens her eyes in surprise.  
“…he did what?”

“Didn’t think so”, she mutters. “The gutless fetcher.” She gestures with her hands in a helpless fashion. “I can’t give you the details out here, but Veya wants answers and I have promised to help her out. I can acquire what we need via the Morag Tong, particularly when Eris refuses to do so.”

Apparently, this is more of a wreck than Sam could’ve anticipated. She bites her lip in thought as she ponders the various potential outcomes.  
“Well, I’m not disputing this angle, but sadly, I can’t just walk away either. If I don’t solve this dilemma, Eris said he’ll hire mercenaries to go after her instead.”

Once more, the assassin groans, practically seething at this rate.  
“He just won’t give up, will he? Never cared before, but now it’s blasted crisis! Bloody sham is what it is. If I had a writ on that wretch…”

“Listen, I won’t get in the way of whatever you’re planning, but I’m asking, _begging_ you to let me help you both. Allow me to see Veya and talk about Eris. That might satisfy him.”

Naryu nibbles tentatively on her lower lip for a few moments, while she unsheathes one of her daggers. She runs her nails across its blunt side, as a whole heap of very gory scenes play out in her mind. Eventually, she relents.  
“Alright, fine.” She turns to the altmer. “But only because it’s you, alright? No one else is permitted. Go back and tell him that and then I’ll take you to her.”

This appears to please Sam, who displays one of her gentle smiles, one that nigh melts Naryu’s ferocious heart.  
“Thank you, Naryu.”

“Don’t thank me yet, not until we’re out of this mess.”

“Don’t fret, I’m sure we’ll both make it. We’ve survived worse mayhem.  
How did you get involved with a Councilor’s daughter in the first place?”

The dunmer sheathes her blade and shrugs nonchalantly.  
“Oh, we’ve known each other for years, on and off. I've been acquainted with both Veya and her brother since they were very young. They came to see me in between jobs and we steadily grew to become…friends, I suppose. They were sweet and only moderately pesky brats, really. Veya is like…I don’t know.”

Sam tilts her head with interest.  
“A sister?”

Naryu stares at her incredulously.  
“Hmm. Might be taking it too far, to be honest.”

The expression on the thief grows into a confident smirk instead.  
“A daughter, perhaps.”

This provokes a glare from the assassin.  
“…watch yourself, _hero_. Even you have limits in my territory that you shouldn’t cross.”

Sam can’t help herself as she laughs and lifts her hands defensively.  
“Just saying that I find your connection cute.”

“Ugh. Don’t start.  
In any case, I promise to take you to see Veya once you’ve talked to that pretentious bastard. But stow the charm somewhat around her, will you? Veya has enough distractions as it is.”

This wasn’t the type of suggestion Sam had expected to hear and she arches her brow.  
“Is that caution or jealousy I hear?”

“Oh, please. You would never do anything to hurt me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Naryu is becoming increasingly unamused with Sam’s constant pushing. She should be the one who teases, not the recipient. She shuts the distance between them and taps the altmer’s chest, lowering her voice into a dangerous tone.  
“…don’t tempt me, darling.”

Sam chuckles.  
“Now I almost want to test it.”

“Are you sure? Because I _will_ wrestle you into this mud and utterly _devour_ you. Wouldn’t be very prudent if our precious Arrow comes back to town drenched and sore, now would it?”


	2. Cave tales

Okay, so it seems neither Samyrwe nor Naryu were particularly successful in their endeavors. There had been a promise, a sincere vow, that no one else would get involved in this unfortunate mess. Sam had made every attempt and Naryu had insisted as much, but none of it mattered. Mercenaries have arrived regardless.

Some type of khajiiti warband is scouring the swamp for Veya, hired by a Captain Brivan of the Redoran Guard. On the route to her latest destination, Sam had to tussle with a few. It would’ve been far less of a hassle, had Veya not been out in the open, skulking around the area while bored, of course. Naryu had warned her of the young apprentice’s restlessness, but Sam thought it was merely hyperbole, a natural aggravation from the assassin aimed at youngsters. Perhaps she should doubt Naryu less in the future.

When Naryu had promised to take her to Veya, though, Sam had presumed they’d converse in the relative safety and warmth of Balmora, but sadly, no such comfort was offered. It was off to the Bitter Coast again, after some investigations in the city. She had to go on ahead alone as well, as Naryu had to handle a few unrelated affairs first. The assassin apparently felt it was more suitable to hide her apprentice in the darkness of a cave. That does tend to be the preference of both their types.

Veya, despite her gear and affiliation, seems like quite a sweet young woman. Fierce and determined, perhaps, but not necessarily unpleasant. The sight Sam encountered once they practically bumped into each other was a curious one too – long white hair hanging down across her back and shoulders, ashen skin and an abundance of leather gear and blades. Sam certainly won’t fault her for coming prepared, as she shares the same vigilance.

Once the altmer enters the dark and musty cave, she notices that Veya has already prepared a campfire. She’s waiting, though not patiently and her stance is fairly tense until she notes who steps into the entrance. Veya breathes out in relief.  
“Welcome to my humble abode! It’s got dirt and rocks and fungus. Oh, mind the muck while you walk over the threshold. Think I forgot to clean there during my last sweep”, she states, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Despite the hints of bitterness, Sam smiles and glances around with her hands on her hips. She’s seen worse.  
“Looks cozy.”

Veya snorts.  
“True, sort of. Doesn’t actually feel like a home, though.”

“It can be for some.”

“Eh, fair enough.”  
She gestures with her hand and gets seated on the floor next to the fire, crossing her legs as she does.  
“So, you had some information about my brother, right?”

Sam nods as she joins Veya. Before she left Balmora, Naryu had sent her on a mission of covert information gathering. Who better to pilfer assets than a professional thief?  
“Yes. I…acquired some things from the Redoran Registry. Ulran Releth, he’s your brother, correct?”

Veya nods quite eagerly, unintentionally revealing her growing excitement at finally having some answers.  
“That’s his name, yeah.”

“Well, according to the documents, he was stripped of his rank and exiled.”

Part of this seems to unsettle Veya.  
“No, that…that can’t be right. This wasn’t what they told me. They said he had to leave, but…stripped of his rank? What more did it say?”

Sam digs her hand into a pocket and fishes out a note where she scribbled the basics of what she had to convey.  
“A Captain Brivan had claimed in his report that Ulran killed one of his own soldiers to protect an Ashlander.”

Veya now drifts from simple agitation to confusion and surprise.  
“I don’t…understand. My brother always had a soft spot for Ashlanders, sure. He showed them respect in all interactions, especially when the House cared nothing for them, but…”  
She runs a hand over her mouth, her mind racing in a million direction, only faintly perceivable via a shimmer in her dark eyes.  
“Killing another soldier doesn’t sound like Ulran at all. There has to be more to this story, a terrible condition of some kind.”

Sam puts away the note and removes the bag from her back, placing it on the ground next to her.  
“I’ve never met your brother. What can you tell me about him?”

Despite the harrowing news she just received, Veya manages to compose herself and her expression softens.  
“Ulran is an honorable and noble soul, more so than I’ve ever been. He’s staunchly loyal and viewed as the epitome of the Redoran Guard. To banish him sounds ludicrous.”  
She furrows her brow.  
“I don’t know how in Oblivion this happened, but it smells, like rotten scrib jelly. I’m going to get to the bottom of this somehow. I do know where the tribe is currently situated.”

While she listens, Sam views Veya with compassionate eyes, noticing the tension all over the young woman. This has really got her worked up and she’s clearly willing to sacrifice a lot to trace the truth. Sam thinks she’s a decent kid and she can see where Naryu’s attachment stems from.  
Hoping to provide some form of distraction, Sam opens her backpack and digs her fingers into it.  
“You want a snack?”

The eyes of the dunmer had been fixated on the fire, letting its light be reflected in those dark pools. Now, however, she blinks confusedly and veers to Sam.  
“What?”

“I bought some West Gash fire cake back in Balmora. Bit stale, but it should still be good.”

Veya watches as Sam lifts a dark brown pastry from her bag and tears off a piece. The interior is softer and colored in shades of red. The apprentice hesitates at first, but after a few seconds of contemplation, she sheepishly accepts the slice.  
“Thanks”, she mumbles before she starts to eat.

Sam offers a wider smile.  
“No problem. I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth myself.”  
After grabbing another piece, both of them soon munch gladly on the cake in silence. Once she has packed the rest back down into the container, Sam observes the dunmer again.  
“How are you holding up, Veya? Sounds like this whole debacle is needlessly intricate.”

Veya’s gaze is once more held at the fire, but her stance is softer, less constricted.  
“I get why it might look like that, and in some ways, perhaps it is. I never wanted for it to come this far, but after my family refused to give me answers, I had to take action.”

“Mm, I understand. Are you and your brother close?”

“Yeah, without a doubt. Very close, in fact.” She raises a hand to correct her hair, stroking some of the loose stands behind her ear.  
“I love my brother and I’ve always looked up to him, regardless of our differences. The duties of House Redoran have always been…you know, difficult for me to keep up with. They’re confining and restricting, but after Ulran’s disappearance, they became downright suffocating. I had to get out.”

Sam eats a bit slower now, focusing her attention on listening to Veya’s tale.  
“And your father?”

The apprentice snorts once more, sharper this time.  
“We’ve never seen eye to eye, because of my opinions and feelings. He’s a traditional and dutiful Redoran, doing everything for the House. I’m…a troublemaker in comparison. His life is foolish and dreary. I can’t survive like that, not for long. It’s why I sought Naryu out. Well, partially, anyway. I also knew she could give me the answers I needed.”

“Well, it’s not a bad decision. In spite of evidence to the contrary and claiming otherwise, I know Naryu is a good person at heart.”

Veya faces her again and displays a faint smile.  
“Yeah, I agree. Glad you think so too.” After a few moments of stillness, she seems to want a change of topics. She likely wishes to be distracted and as she devours the last of the cake slice, she initiates it.  
“How did you retrieve this information, by the way? They can’t just have handed it to you.”

Sam swallows the last of her own snack and licks her fingers.  
“Of course not. I snuck inside and stole it.”

Had she expected that response, perhaps? Veya’s eyes glimmer with amusement.  
“So, it’s true what they say? You have deft fingers?”

Sam arches a brow.  
“They?”

“…okay, mostly Naryu.”

The altmer snickers.  
“She’s not wrong. I am fairly adept at such activities. It’s tied with my skills with the bow and blades.”

Veya hadn’t really inspected it much earlier, but she now checks all of Sam’s gear, seeing the bow, the quiver, the short swords and the daggers.  
“Hmm. Naryu called you the ‘King’s Arrow’, when she explained who I was meeting. I mean, I knew the rumors, but I didn’t have a face to put to the rank, until now.”

“Well, it’s not so much a ‘rank’ as an…honorary title, I guess. I’m a freelancer, not an actual member of the Pact.”

Veya chuckles at the dismissal of any heroics. Not going to let her slip away that easily, though.  
“So you say, but not everyone agrees. Never suspected that a Pact hero liked to roam the shadows.”

“Well, the Thieves Guild always had a certain intrinsic appeal for me.”

“Thieves, huh? How long have you been with them?”

Sam’s gaze drifts to the roof and she scratches her neck in thought.  
“Must be several years now. They tend to be a preferred faction to align with for outlaws, unless one wants to perform bloodier tasks. I don’t mind battle, but I’m not too fond of assassination.”

“And yet you hang out with one.”

The thief clears her throat somewhat awkwardly. There is a little bit of hypocrisy involved.  
“Well…yes, but life takes strange turns sometimes. I usually go with the flow and being with Naryu has proven to be rather fruitful.”

Veya folds her arms and leans back against the cave wall nearby.  
“Have you lived in Morrowind for a long time?”

A quick nod in response.  
“Mhm. I was born here, to a single mother. She came to Morrowind after leaving her home in Cyrodiil decades ago. Sadly, she fell ill when I was still very young. She left me to the Temple and its priests before she passed away.”

Hints of sorrow and ambivalence washes over Veya.  
“Oh, I…I’m sorry to hear that. My condolences.” Sam merely sports a pensive smile and a shrug. “So, you grew up in the Temple?”

“Partially, yes. Mostly in an orphanage, but I was acquainted with several of the priests, as they had been friends with my mother. They helped tutor and guide me through my early life. My faith has always been strong because of it.”

Veya lifts a hand and scratches her chin.  
“It’s kinda weird that an altmer would believe in them, even if you live here. Your people usually worship the Divines or whatever, right?”

“You think so? Shouldn’t be that odd. I’ve always admired the Tribunal. They’re more tangible than the Eight, more direct. They actually help, assist and counsel their people through words and deeds, not blind faith or futile hope. They provide guidelines, care for their citizens and occasionally hold back threats. They’re true gods, in my eyes.”

It’s not like Veya has never heard of a non-dunmer praying to the Three, but it is definitely unusual. In a way, it’s a little heartwarming.  
“And you don’t feel like your profession contradicts your faith?”

“No, why would it?”

“Well, you laud their rules and yet you don’t follow them.”

Sam coughs somewhat awkwardly and pinches her nose.  
“That’s uh…a good point. But I maintain it’s still within the perimeters of the Tribunal faith. Sotha Sil teaches and lectures us about the mystery of life, that nothing is ever unambiguous, and all cogs serve a purpose.  
And in certain respects, I believe that I emulate Vivec’s duality, adhering and opposing. I am the law and the anarchy; the light and the shadow.”

Her excuses and squirming appear to entertain Veya and she eventually laughs briefly, a gesture that makes Sam smile.  
“You’ve got a decent defense at least, I’ll give you that much.  
How did you and Naryu meet to begin with, then?”

Sam shrugs casually.  
“Oh, we’ve collaborated since quite a while back now, when I was first hired to perform tasks for the Pact. Our first meeting was sort of accidental, as I accepted a job that Naryu was already investigating, in Deshaan. She had been spying on my work, which obviously wasn’t ideal. I distrusted her, and we were in conflict for a time until we both realized that cooperating was best for everyone. Since then, we’ve conspired on numerous occasions.”

Veya strokes a hand over her chin while she listens.  
“Has to be more to that story. You’ll have to tell me some other time.  
I do hear that the Mother of Blades is attached to you, though. Like, intimately.”

The suggestion on its own is very intriguing, but it’s one particular section that fills Sam with both surprise and escalating delight.  
“…the what now?”

Veya flashes a smirk.  
“It’s an old Morag Tong title that I’ve been using on Naryu. Irritates her to no end, but that’s the point.”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to giggle.  
“I like your style, Releth.”

“You do, huh? Well, I was thinking, since the two of you are so close, should I be calling you the Mother of Quivers?”

If she was delighted before, Sam is practically thrilled now.  
“Ooh, that would be so exasperating for her, wouldn’t it? Yes, please, definitely do that. Particularly in front of her.”

Veya laughs, a genuine and happy gesture. She looks at the altmer with a softened gaze and places a hand on her arm.  
“Thanks, Sam. For talking, I mean.”

Sam pats her shoulder in return.  
“Anytime. Naryu and I are here for you, Veya.”

“I know, and I appreciate it.  
Oh uh, can I call you that?”

“Sam, you mean? By all means, it’s what everyone does.”

“Even the Skald-King?”

The altmer snorts amusedly.  
“Nah, he mostly just yells. ‘Go, my Arrow, pierce those dastardly milk drinkers!’”

Once more, the room fills with sounds of Veya’s joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm going to jump ahead to the end of this storyline in the next chapter. This fic does follow the general events of that questline, though, so I won't really change much until the end._


	3. Tragedy

A catastrophe, in every sense of the word. Previously, Samyrwe had looked upon this scenario as a sorry mess, a stupid disarray that needed to be mended, especially with Naryu involved. Sure, it had transformed from a straightforward task for gold, into an actual personal project to assist a woman she cares for deeply, but it was still on a manageable level. If only she knew then what would transpire.

It’s become abundantly clear during the weeks she’s spent on this mission, that she underestimated the level of turmoil at play here. For this was an unbridled disaster, a calamity of epic proportions, to an extent she has hardly ever witnessed before. And she once went to Sovngarde, to aid the Skald-King.  
Its repercussions would not rattle the world, nor alter the foundations of Vvardenfell. It was simply a tragedy, an unmitigated wreck.

Not only had Ulran’s killing of a soldier been a test distributed by House Redoran, but it seems Eris himself orchestrated the entire ordeal. His own father at the core of his misfortune. It wasn’t purposefully intended to end in a murder, nor did Eris want to exile his son, but merely asses his loyalty. Sadly, he underestimated Ulran and how far this event would go. In the end, he had to pay the price.

The entire trio of Sam, Naryu and Veya are now back in the underground lair inside Balmora, a dusty old cellar operated by the Tong, with training dummies, crummy tables, broken shelves and quite hardy beds. Each of them is sitting or lying in a corner, licking their respective wounds. Some of these injuries appeared after fighting mercenaries, but by and large, they are a result of the collision that occurred between them. Or rather, Veya’s clash with the older duo.

Naryu is sitting in her leather outfit on a chair, staring at the reclined and slumbering form of her apprentice with conflicting eyes, as Veya rests on one of the few beds in here. She’s unsure if she should embrace pity, remorse, anger or hatred. Maybe a little of all four, maybe none. There can be no doubt that Naryu has every right to feel these emotions, but she can’t decide. Her head practically wishes to explode with the ramifications.

Eventually, she groans in frustration and stands up. She strolls over to the opposite end of the room, towards Sam sitting on a bench, who’s still not in an optimal condition. The altmer is only wearing a set of brown pants and a thin black shirt.  
Naryu doesn’t say anything as she strokes her hand to the bottom of the garment and tries to pull it up. This surprises Sam, who attempts to stop her, by putting a hand on the dunmer’s wrist.

“Hey, what are you doing? That’s a little inappropriate right now, don’t you think?”

As she faces Naryu’s red eyes, however, she sees no displays of desire or passion. The assassin just rolls them.  
“Don’t be an idiot, Sam. I simply wish to check the bandages.”

The assassin has a few of her own, mainly on her arms, but Sam took the worst hits by far, though not enough for it to be critical. Could’ve been, if they hadn’t patched her up so quickly.  
They had been too late to save Ulran, who was slaughtered together with several ashlanders by mercenaries that the Redoran Guard had hired. After Veya found out what her father had done, even if he had not ordered this attack, she went haywire, on a murderous craze.

The one solution that the young apprentice could see as prudent in that situation was to kill her own father. This eventually extended into a craving to end the entire Redoran Council, but she never got that far.  
Naryu and Sam were too late for the former act and had to watch Veya cut down her parent in an exceedingly gruesome and brutal manner. No quick stab to the heart, but an entire flurry of slashes, cuts and harsh incisions, fueled by a ceaseless fury. The duo just barely managed to break open the lock to the entrance in time to stop her from assaulting the Council, but the apprentice couldn’t distinguish between friends and foes. She attacked them too, to her own detriment. Sam doesn’t think she has ever witnessed such ferocity primarily nourished by desperation and sorrow. Her heart bled with sympathy.

Naryu exhales heavily as she gingerly caresses the damaged regions on Sam’s torso.  
“Dammit. I still can’t believe you allowed this to happen. I told you not to let your guard down.”

Sam leans against the back of the bench, though it’s not a particularly comfy seat. Best she can get at this time. She’s drained in every way; physically, mentally and emotionally.  
“I know. I heard you the first time”, she mutters.

She realized what reaction this statement would conjure, but she can’t help it. Naryu frowns at her.  
“Then why didn’t you heed my warnings, damn you?”

There should be some flare to retaliate, a lightning with which to strike, but Sam can do little else than shrug.  
“I…I didn’t want to hurt Veya, Naryu. She’s your apprentice.”

“She was trying to stab you in the chest, you netchhead!”

Sam shakes her head.  
“Yes, thank you, I noticed that. But I hesitated. Can’t be helped.”

With a fierce tug, Naryu pulls down Sam’s shirt again and snorts.  
“You should’ve done better. The King’s Arrow shouldn’t fall to a bloody child.”

Once more, Sam seizes Naryu’s body, by grabbing her shoulder.  
“Stop this already. We’re alive, aren’t we? And she’s not that young.”

After Veya finally fell, the last words she uttered before she passed out was an apology, though it was hard to tell who it was directed towards. Naryu didn’t know what to do in the subsequent chaos and the choices overwhelmed her. Only Sam’s word kept Veya alive.  
That said, the Council had demanded her death, that peace could be obtained solely with her demise. The end they’ve opted for here is most…unconventional, not to mention dangerous. Both the Morag Tong and Redoran will want to go after her if they find out that the young Releth survived this trial. She broke rules on either side.

At first, Naryu just sits there on her knees in front of her partner, having no retorts that would satisfy them. Her emotions are still raw and though she has faced adversity many times, it has never affected her like this.  
Eventually, she rips her arm out of Sam’s grasp, rises and glares at Veya.  
“I still can’t believe this happened! How could she do such a thing? How dare she just…betray me like this?!”

Sam is obviously sore, but not on the verge of blacking out like Veya did. She’s still sleeping and very few elements manage to awaken her. They had to remove much of her armor earlier and they’re unsure what to do with it, since its hide is filled with holes and blood; residues that the duo created. For now, Veya has bandages all over her upper body, and she’s paler than the others. She lost a lot of blood after the hits she took; the most severe ones being dealt by Naryu. Her tutor felt…responsible in a way, that she had to be the one to take her apprentice down.

“Veya was in shock, Naryu, after this whole nightmare.”

“And that’s an acceptable excuse to you?”, Naryu fires back. “It bloody well isn’t to me, not with all this chaos.” She begins pacing across the floor, facing neither of the women. “Being angry would’ve been reasonable. I definitely wouldn’t have faulted her for getting really pissed off. But outright murder of a Redoran Captain _and_ a Redoran Councilor is insane. Not to mention that she attacked her own friends and allies – us!”

It’s not that Sam wishes to discard everything they’ve been through in the past day, nor would she fight the prospect of punishing the apprentice. However, she has spent enough time around Veya now that she cares. Someone has to defend her.  
“She’s still young”, Sam counters. “She hasn’t experienced enough to comprehend what true mistakes feel like.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Sam. I taught her better than this, instructed her to follow a different path. Veya should know our limits by now. She represents the Morag Tong, an honored and respected tradition of Morrowind, not the reckless hooligans in Camonna.”

Sam entwines her fingers and puts them in her lap.  
“I understand you’re angry, but-“

Naryu swirls to face her.  
“Of course I’m angry! After all I’ve done to help her, all I’ve offered to guide her in life, _this_ is how she repays my kindness?!”, she yells and gestures at the area in general, at their injured state.

Knowing she has to be careful here, for both their sakes, Sam shuts her eyes and tries to steady her breathing.  
“Sure, it was careless and senseless, but Veya only did what she thought was the best in the pandemonium she ended up in.”

Naryu stares at her partner with incredulous and perplexed eyes, before she points heatedly at Veya’s unconscious position.  
“This? _This_ was what she thought was best? Sam, I adore you, but it’s laughable to even suggest it. It’s stupid beyond measure.”

She is getting a little tired of being targeted by Naryu’s constant derision, though, which is why she offers a stern gaze of her own.  
“I didn’t say I agree with her. But she’s not the only one in the wrong here. What her father and the Council did was foul too. Is House Redoran going to take responsibility for the ashlander deaths they caused? I very much doubt that.”

This is an entirely separate angle, of course, but not one Naryu can mentally attend to right this moment. She needs to stay focused, which is why she veers away again.  
“I just…I can’t believe she’d do this to me.”

“You know who you took in when you recruited her. Don’t pretend otherwise, Naryu.”

The assassin tries to issue an apt response, but she doesn’t know what that would entail. In the end, she merely scowls and rapidly gestures in a dismissive fashion.  
“…shut up!”  
She resumes her pacing, strolling over the cellar floor, as she’s caught in a torrent of emotions and sentiments. Her eyes occasionally drift towards Veya, struggling with how to feel about this outcome. She doesn’t know what exactly it is she wants anymore.  
She ultimately comes to an abrupt halt, somewhere in the center.  
“Argh! You know what? Fetch it! She _should_ be punished for this. I should just kill her and be done with it. That would end this miserable debacle.”

She whirls around, fixates on Veya, unsheathes her dagger and attempts to stride forth. She stops right next to the dormant young woman, the sharp tool held above her…but she hesitates.  
Thankfully, she stalls long enough for Sam to hurry over to her position, making the altmer strain her body in the process, and grab Naryu’s wrist, holding it back. Though, to be honest, if the dunmer strives for it, Sam doesn’t have nearly enough strength to oppose her.

For now, Sam attempts to summon as much calm as she can muster, knowing she’s the sole stabilizing force present.  
“Yeah, it would. It’d probably be the smarter choice too, for the future of your organization. But it also means you have to ask yourself a crucial question – can you rip out your own heart and tear it to shreds?”

Nothing has thwarted Naryu’s furious charge before, not like this. Even their confrontation back in Eastmarch, which triggered their romance, wasn’t out of anger, but desperation.  
Naryu glances over her shoulder and glowers at the thief. The grim severity has been enough to deter many men and women over the years, but not this lady. Sam looks steady, earnest and heartfelt. She’s candid with her words and she won’t back down. Naryu will have to fully break that avid seal first.

The assassin pinches her own nose with the other hand, in such an ardent fashion that she wonders if it’ll shatter. Shortly after, she fiercely extracts her wrist again, but doesn’t attack. Instead, she angrily tosses the weapon away, letting it bounce across the floor.  
“Did I ever mention how much I _despise_ allowing you to win our arguments?”

“Yes, quite regularly. Practically every time we meet.”

“Good, because this hasn’t waned. You’re a real stubborn s’wit.”

Sam snorts in mild amusement and shrugs.  
“Can’t argue with that.”

Succeeding these comments, they hear a small agonized groan from Veya, who rouses from her haze. She’s not doing very well and coughs almost immediately.  
“W…where am I?”, she mumbles, her voice being exceedingly hoarse.

“You’re in the cellar within Balmora”, Sam informs her.

Veya shuts her eyes once more, letting her ears identify her surroundings for her.  
“S…Sam? Is Naryu…?”

The teacher bites at her lip and falters. She considers staying silent or potentially leaving, but thinks better of it. No, she made a decision and she has to live with it. Her tone softens, and she envelops one of her apprentice’s hands in a tender grip.  
“I’m here, Veya. You were hurt after the fight, but you’ll be fine. I promise. Get some rest, alright?”

Veya coughs again, an act that appears excruciating, based on her grimaces.  
“O…okay.” She breathes in sharply. “Naryu…”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry…”

Naryu swallows a knot in her throat.  
“I know.”

After Veya seemingly drifts off into sleep again, Naryu tucks her in with what few blankets they can spare and gently strokes a few unruly strands of hair from Veya’s face. She feels foolish for behaving this way, but she has to acknowledge how much she cares.  
With a much more delicate, perhaps even fragile gaze, she turns to the thief. It is possibly the most vulnerable Sam has ever seen her. It’s unusual, scary and encouraging. Naryu leans into her, caresses her lover’s cheek and kisses her gingerly, but fondly.

“Thank you, for…preserving her”, she whispers.

Sam smiles and runs a hand through the black hair.  
“I’ll do anything for you, you know that.”

“If I had any doubts, they’re now erased.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I didn't feel like Naryu was suitably emotional in game, so I set out to fix that. Or ruin it, I guess._


	4. Apprentice

In the aftermath of such destruction, chaos and tragedy, one could feasibly assume that reality would shift a tinge. Not to say that the entire world should become undone, as that would be more than a little preposterous, but Samyrwe has to admit, even to herself, that she expected more. A sense of gravity in the air, that the food might taste differently, or for the clouds to begin drooping in the sky. But no, nothing. Perhaps she gave the sentience of nature a bit too much credit.

At least a week has past since the disaster within the fortress outside Balmora. Fortunately, it has actually been an unusually calm week. Then again, it’s a sort of artificial safety, as the trio has deliberately chosen to stay in the shadows and avoid the notice of House Redoran.  
After the deal between them and the Council, who still believes that Veya is gone, the House has not tried to expend any efforts at utilizing patrols to investigate the truth. It would’ve been a prudent precaution, but the Redorans hoped they could all put this fiasco behind them instead. Best to let everyone forget.

During their extended hiding session, the only times they actually left the cellar was when getting fresh air, to deliver messages to the Tong or to get supplies, such as food and fresh water.  
The older duo did their very best to nurse Veya back to health on their own and even though the young woman felt a tad silly for being so helpless, she appreciated their care. It couldn’t be ignored that no one else would do this for her.

Sam had on one occasion suggested that they go speak with Veya’s mother, who should still be alive, unless something terrible befell her on a mental level, which wouldn’t be inconceivable. Naryu was vehemently opposed to this idea.  
From what she had heard Veya mention, they were never particularly close either, though not at odds in the same fashion as with her father. Nevertheless, this would not be a viable solution. Not only would it grant them very little, but if she starts to doubt them for even a moment, they’d end up in serious trouble, as she could reveal the whole plot to the House. They would cause a fiercer stir and be forced to scrap any subsequent plans. Hence, it remained a secret.

Once Veya was in a more malleable state, Sam approached one of her contacts among House Hlaalu and played on their rivalry with Redoran in order to attain safe passage out of Balmora. This is why the trio can currently be located in the southern town of Seyda Neen, having rented a small room inside the inn where they can hide Veya for the time being. It’s become abundantly clear that they have to discuss a different route.

They’re now sitting together in this provisional lair. They’ve recently shared an alit stew, dipped over saltrice and washed down with a few mugs of sujamma. Probably the first liquor that the younger dunmer has been able to imbibe in a while. Veya does get to be present, although Naryu had almost suggested that they hold the meeting outside. Sam had insisted that Veya should get to have a say, a factor that Naryu found very dubious after what her apprentice had demonstrated, but she relented.

“First and foremost, let’s establish one thing”, says Naryu and points at Veya. “She can’t stay here, not after all she’s done. Her face might be known in certain circles and if anyone even remotely recognizes her, a hunt will commence. No doubt about it.”

Veya looks both unsure and saddened.  
“But Naryu…surely, I can help, in some way”, she urges. “There has to be something I can do.”

Naryu merely shakes her head.  
“I don’t think that’s a possibility, Veya, not anymore. It’s too risky, both for you and for us. The Morag Tong will definitely try to find you and if Redoran catches wind of it? They’ll be frantic. You can’t linger in Morrowind, much less Vvardenfell.”

Sam has been listening quietly for most of the current debate, as Naryu has been partially recapping the chaos. She believes that now may be an adequate moment to offer her own thoughts.  
“Isn’t that a little too drastic?”

“Quite the opposite. Do you honestly believe the Tong would be so benevolent that they let this slide? You’ve encountered enough of my superiors by now to know I’m right.”

This is partially true. She has dealt with a few Tong members that Naryu has admitted were of significant value, but it’s difficult to tell just how important they are in the core of the organization.  
“But where would she go? You’re saying we just purchase the first ticket out of Morrowind and banish her to some desolate corner?”

Naryu rolls her eyes.  
“Come now, Sam. You know me better than that.  
I have an alternative for this already – Summerset.”

Apparently, this is the first that Veya hears of it as well, based on her distraught reaction.  
“What?! That’s absurd! Summerset is on the other side of Tamriel! And it’s filled with pompous stuck-up pricks!”

The complaint appears to matter little to the assassin, who merely shrugs.  
“Maybe, but it’s also far from the Tong’s reach, Veya. And they’re not all bad. I know a few decent people there, agents of the leadership, one of them being a khajiit. He can help you out. Hide you in plain sight, while perfecting your training.”

Veya seems to stray between expressions of sorrow and anger at what she’s presented with.  
“You mean submit to strangers that don’t care about me.”

She doesn’t dare to fully face Naryu’s eyes with this comment, perhaps for fear of the assassin’s response or maybe due to the ungrateful nature of her attitude.  
“To you, they might be, but that doesn’t make them dishonorable. They’re a bit too virtuous and heroic-minded, but decent. Like Sam, though not as delightful. I trust them, and they can teach you a lot.”

Despite the promises offered, Veya still looks miserable and gloomy. Could be that she’s attempting to stoke the dormant compassion.  
“But, Naryu…this isn’t fair.”

Sadly, Naryu remains adamant.  
“ _Fair?_ Veya, you have no right to complain after what you committed back there. You should be glad you’re even alive! You think anyone else would show you this type of mercy?”

When confronted with such ferocious truths, Veya flinches and lowers her gaze, letting her guilt take over. She stops struggling.  
“Perhaps…you’re right. I know I’m still at fault, and the atrocities I performed would normally push me into the depths of a dungeon or execution.”

“Damn right it would. If not by your House, then definitely by the Tong. It’s the only punishment suitable for a renegade.”

While Naryu offers her no sense of sympathy, this emotion does emerge from Sam. Veya’s grief is enough to sway her into a state of joint anguish.  
“I’m not sure I agree. This idea of sending her away feels…callous. It’s like we’re abandoning her. She’ll be lost and lonely down there, which seems like the wrong solution. After all, we were the ones who spared her to begin with. We should take responsibility and not simply throw her away.”

Naryu sighs and rubs her eyes, as she detects a light headache brewing. She knew this would occur.  
“You’re too much of a bleeding heart as per usual, Sam.  
So, what do you propose, hmm? Do you have some brilliant answer to our dilemma? In which case, by all means. Showcase it for me.”

Sarcasm seeps out of the assassin’s voice, who so very overtly doubts the potential of a happier ending. Does it derive from excessive self-assurance or pessimism?  
At first, Sam is hesitant, not knowing what to say. She has partially painted herself into a corner here, as all she really had was opposition, not the key to salvation. But when she turns to gaze at Veya, with such sad and forlorn eyes, she knows there’s only one way to fix this. Perhaps it’s been the case the whole time.

“I will take her.”

Both of the dunmer shift into disparate states of astonishment at this reveal. For Veya, this means hope, but Naryu embraces skepticism.  
“What? Take her? Where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere outside of Morrowind, I suppose, like you suggested. It’s not as if we need an immediate destination. Tamriel contains many hidden caves, coves, abandoned ruins and unexplored forests. We could delve into any of them.”

Naryu remains perplexed of the purpose or the logic.  
“And what, just hang out there forever?”

Sam snorts.  
“Of course not. You’re not stupid enough to presume I’d vanish completely. No, instead, I’ll do what you can’t anymore. I know where and how to hide better than anyone and I can introduce her to the Thieves Guild. A new and separate path, where I can…well, mentor her.”

She’s offering to make Veya her apprentice in the Guild? That builds a lot of queries. For a few moments, Naryu simply leans back in her chair and ruminates on the implications and consequences of such a future.  
“But-…I don’t-…  
What makes you think she’ll be any safer with them?”

“Well, if anyone in the Guild questions her presence, my identity will protect her. I’m trusted and popular in most outlaw circles. And compared to the Tong, we have no incentive to cooperate with authorities.”  
She steers her eyes towards the younger mer.  
“That is, if you want to, of course. I extend this as a proposition, not a demand. If you believe you can endure life with me, I wish to grant you that opportunity.”

Luckily, Veya is ecstatic beyond words. She stares at Sam in shock, before her lips slowly begin to curl.  
“I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, don’t get too overexcited. This will be a different road to walk, with much less killing and wanton violence. But…well, you might enjoy it. I know I do.”

Veya lifts her hand to scratch her cheek, turning away a little so that she can properly ponder her alternatives.  
“Erm, well, I…I don’t know a lot about the Thieves Guild, really, other than the name and the rumors. Leaving my homeland would still hurt, but…going out into the world sounds quite exciting too. I’ve always craved freedom, and this would undoubtedly grant me that.”  
She veers back to the altmer.  
“Most of all, though – will you be there?”

Sam inclines her head and displays a small smile.  
“I will, at all times.”

“Then that’s what matters to me.”  
Veya stands up from her seat and instantly moves up to Sam, so that she can hug the thief. The altmer gladly accepts this approach, running a hand over the shorter woman’s hair.  
“I never knew I needed a friend like you, but I can’t deny it now. Thanks, Sam, for giving me a chance.”

“I’m certain you will prove to be worthy of it.”

Despite the auspicious winds of joy and optimism, Naryu’s incredulity persists.  
“Not sure this will work, Sam. If they find you…”

The thief faces her lover and attempts to conjure a wall of confidence.  
“Don’t be like that, Naryu. If there’s something I’m good at, it’s avoiding notice. You know it’s true.”

The slightly older dunmer sighs and folds her arms.  
“And what, you presume to make this decision without my consent? I have more right to her fate than you do.”

It’s true that they did kind of shove Naryu outside the process without asking for permission. Sam’s determination stumbles a bit and she scratches her neck.  
“Well, I just figured…you know…”

Naryu clearly doesn’t know how to feel either, which is evident in the way she glances between them, scrutinizing their appearances without unyielding disapproval. She’s still in a persuasible state. Veya desperately hopes this can be exploited. She disentangles herself from the altmer and carefully approaches her old mentor.  
“Please, Naryu, I beg you. Let me go with her. I promise, I will do everything I possibly can to improve and evolve. I mean, honestly, do you think anyone can do this for me better than Sam?”

And with this final push, Naryu surrenders. She raises her arms in the air and exhales.  
“Fine, fine. I’ll allow it. I do hope none of us come to regret this.”

Veya summons a sheepish and a little guilty smile, while closing the distance. Despite everything that has transpired between them, Naryu does not oppose the hug she’s given. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, she returns it too.  
“You’re the best.”

“You will be leaving on a long journey and I won’t be there during most of it, so you better be nice to Sam.”

“Uh, shouldn’t you be saying it the other way around?”

“Psh, no. I already know that Sam is as sweet as a guar hatchling, but you are another matter.”  
She pecks Veya’s forehead too. In a way, she has virtually acknowledged her role as an older sister now, or a weird type of mother, though she’s not exactly old enough for the latter.  
Once they separate, the assassin strides up to her partner. She grabs the top of the altmer’s shirt and drags her down into a demanding and avid kiss, to let her know exactly where she belongs. However, the purpose is twofold, and the second aspect is something that is for Sam’s ears only.  
“Don’t leave too hastily now”, she whispers. “I have…a suitable gift for you.”

Sam arches her brow amusedly, assuming she knows what this entails.  
“A gift, huh? Is that what we call it now?”

“Tsk. Well, we shall get to such entertainment later, but what I’m implying here is an actual present, of sorts.”

The altmer blinks confusedly now. She’s serious, isn’t she?  
“What? Naryu, you don’t have to-“

“I do, but this is no frivolity. It’s a very…personal gesture, one that my organization never permits under normal circumstances. But what you have done…it deserves recognition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If you've played Summerset...yeah, I basically change Veya's fate here. I was dissatisfied with what they chose to do with her and part of the reason for writing all of this was to give her a better future. ___  
>  _So I guess we can just scrap her whole involvement in the Summerset arc now, right?_


	5. Branded treasure

Late evening has arrived in the growing and hallowed city of Vivec, located in the fertile and lush southern lowlands of Vvardenfell, the Ascadian Isles. The skies are clear of any disruptions, the peaceful humming of netches can be heard in the periphery, while Secunda and Masser watches over the citizens of Nirn from above, making sure they’re safe and content.

While this settlement is usually boisterous and bustling during daytime, particularly due to the large-scale constructional operations that are currently being enacted in order to expand its reach with creations of new cantons, most of its areas are pretty silent right now.  
The only noises that are emitted originate from the taverns and cornerclubs, where a lot of the workers, soldiers and merchants are trying to relax and have a good time in one big pot. Of course, it is getting rather late, so the excitement will in all likelihood last for no more than a couple of hours, before it’s time to sleep and prepare for another long and eventful day.

The most prevalent racket is created by laughter, cheering, singing and the occasional lascivious moans, but they are not the sole sentiments by far. If one digs deeper into the bowels of gratification, it is possible to discover a completely separate emotion, one that can be described as mild discomfort or even anguish.  
Should one linger for an extended period, it would be plausible to fear the notions of interrogation, torture or ghastlier torments taking place, but this would be a faulty assumption.

In an isolated corner, not too far from main commotion, Samyrwe is reclined on a bed inside an inn, but not for the purposes of sleeping. It has been scrubbed of items, cleansed and protected by various disposal paper and cloth, to better remove the ink and blood in the future.  
The altmer is lying topless, which isn’t an uncommon occurrence in and of itself, in the company of her assassin lover, but due to the fact that her trousers are staying on, it’s easy to presume that this is a dissimilar activity.

Naryu is present, obviously, and she’s slightly leaning over Sam from the side, sitting on a chair. In her hand is a sharp and thin tool that she aptly and meticulously applies to the altmer’s skin, to pierce the golden hue with.  
“Ow!”, Sam blurts, while her body flinches.

“Be quiet”, the dunmer insists.

“Do you know how much this hurts?!”

“I’m trying to concentrate. It would be a lot simpler and less painful if you stopped squirming.”

“That’s easy for you to say!”

Naryu rolls her eyes in an unimpressed fashion.  
“You’re being ridiculously feeble, darling. Surely, you’ve endured far worse instances of pain than a little needle.”

Sam sighs and before she has a chance to respond, Naryu continues, forcing the altmer to breathe in through her nose and bite her lip, to endure another stinging batch. She decides to persevere.  
“…yes, and do you know what happened then? I almost died! Plus, that occurred in the fraction of a second, while this has gone on for hours!”

“You’re being squeamish now.”

Perhaps she’s right. It’s not like this is worse than being cut down by a sword, by any stretch. It’s just the accumulative collection of small pain, which slowly drains her. Or maybe the anesthetic is wearing off.  
The tool in Naryu’s hand is actually a specialized needle with an attached handle, which she utilizes to inject the ink directly under Sam’s skin.

This is not the altmer’s first round of tattoos, as she has a few on her arms in different shades, depicting shapes that represent a few disparate sources – the Tribunal, the Thieves Guild and the last which is meant to symbolize her lost mother.  
The one she’s being bestowed with right now is unique, however, as it’s not just somewhat more expansive than the rest, but also administered in an adamant black and marks a group that she is in no way affiliated with. Well, other than through Naryu.

It’s the emblem of the Morag Tong, which is being applied to her chest, above and somewhat around the breasts. For this reason, it requires some space.  
Sam is a tad iffy on what it’s supposed to depict. The spider of Mephala? An artistic portrayal of an assassin? A naked woman? If she’s being honest, when it comes to Naryu, all three of these concepts are viable.

Naturally, they knew from the start that some pain would be inextricably involved, due to the length of the session. As a precaution, they chose to purchase some pain-numbing elixirs from a local alchemist. It is not all-pervasive however, or the man they bought it from embellished the duration, as some aches slip through, which Sam tries to bear. She’s not incapable of doing so and she did allow the procedure, but figured it’d be done a lot quicker.

It’s entirely plausible that it could have been speedier too, had Naryu not insisted that she do this herself. She wanted to prove her care, dedication and gratitude to her beloved partner, for being at her side during this whole debacle. Without her, Naryu might’ve fallen into despair or worse.  
“There’s not much left now”, Naryu admits, “so you can cease your incessant whining.”

Sam exhales in mild frustration.  
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Your sarcastic remarks only exacerbate my condition, you know.”

A faint smirk creeps onto Naryu’s lips. She’s enjoying herself.  
“That can’t be true. You love my snark.”

“I love a lot of what your tongue can do, but this one is not it.”

She could probably prod Sam for hours, but to distract her lover a little, Naryu attempts to switch focus, heading towards the most blatant subject they have to talk about right now – Veya.  
“So, relay your plan to me regarding our wayward Redoran. You have one, don’t you? Or at least you better, because I won’t simply let the both of you loose into a hapless void.”

Her current stance isn’t optimal, but Sam attempts to concentrate and center herself, in order to reply.  
“I have a plan in the making, yes. Or at least a decent initial route.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, I figure that travelling to Skyrim would be preferable to begin with.”

Naryu raises a brow in disbelief.  
“Skyrim? Isn’t that a little too close for comfort?”

“You forget how big the nordic lands are. And before you point it out, remember that it’s a very cold terrain, which should be a deterrent for a lot of dunmer.”

Not an argument that can be dismissed out of hand, but not necessarily embraced wholeheartedly either.  
“Alright, I’ll give you that much, but don’t get too overconfident. The signing of the Pact has limited the Tong’s movements and territory and we rarely travel that way, but don’t forget that there are extraordinary circumstances. We did hook up in Eastmarch, after all.”

“A fair point, but my statement still stands. In fact, if they do catch wind of her survival, I get the feeling that they’d disregard Skyrim as being too obvious. This is why I’ll be taking Veya there first.”

In a way, it’s amusing, as Naryu can discern the underlying rationale.  
“Going to rely on Jorunn’s protection, are you?”

Sam breathes in sharply when Naryu pierces a bit too rapidly in one section, but she doesn’t let that dissuade her.  
“Actually, no, I had another idea. I befriended a few soldiers back in Eastmarch, who own a farm in Whiterun. They allegedly have a meadery nearby and I surmise it’s a decent first place to hide. Whiterun’s Jarl is also fairly amicable, or so I’ve heard.  
The open tundra will provide us with a good source for improved combat training and hunting grounds. Plus, whenever we need to develop her nimble finger-based techniques, the city isn’t far away.”

It’s the latter element which makes Naryu snort.  
“I should’ve predicted that you’d be one to track down a target so quickly. I have heard how relentless the Guild can be.  
But, well, I don’t intend to dispute your decision. Just…be careful, okay? Nords can get exceedingly grouchy."

“I’ll be mindful. Or smart, rather.”

“Alright, so you’ve found an adequate staging ground. Then what?”

Sam lifts one of her hands to run it along her own cheek, contemplating her options.  
“Well, by then, it’d arguably be favorable to make our way into Hammerfell. The Guild has an extensive presence in the west and though it’s not uncontested, we are more stable there.”

Naryu doesn’t waver for a moment as she replies.  
“Abah’s landing, you mean?”

Not having expected her lover to be so informed, Sam blinks perplexedly.  
“Wait, what? How did you-“

“Why do you even ask, darling? You didn’t honestly think that one slipped past me, did you? Wherever you are, I keep my ears open.”

While she initially wants to protest this inappropriate implication, Sam is quick to roll her eyes and accept surrender. It’s not like she can prevent it.  
“Of course. I almost forgot how much of a stalker you are.”

“Tsk. That word is so crass. I’d like to style myself as an ‘avid Sam connoisseur’.”

“’Stalker’ is less of a mouthful. But yes, if you must know, that’s where we’ll be heading, presumably. It’s the most secure location to protect Veya with.”

“You have a room somewhere?”

Sam shrugs.  
“In a way. I normally aid them from Mournhold, but they keep a bunk open for me when they have something lucrative in mind.”

Despite the omnipresence of her misgivings, Naryu softens her stance enough to acquiesce.  
“It is…a solid strategy, I suppose. The Tong’s interests in such locations are incredibly few and miniscule at best. It’s practically on par with Summerset.”

“Plus, Veya might actually enjoy the people more than the demeanor of Summerset’s citizens. I certainly do.”

“Fair enough. You win, Sam. For now.”  
And so, finally, Naryu retracts her tool.  
“See? We’re done. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

The thief breathes out and radiates with relief.  
“…I thought I would die.”

An exaggeration to be sure, but she can’t enable Naryu’s smug mentality. That said, the dunmer still chuckles.  
“Aww, such a little crybaby”, she states mockingly. “Want me to fetch a guar for you to hug, hmm?”

The yellow eyes drift to meet the red ones.  
“…I wouldn’t turn it down.”

The sound now escalates into a laugh. She utilizes a wet towel to wipe some of the blood and stray ink off, before she elects to switch position and straddles her lover’s waist. Despite the slightly swollen skin that needs to heal, Sam remains a beautiful and tempting sight, especially when exposed in this fashion. Naryu suggestively caresses the altmer’s bare stomach, while she leans down to kiss her softly, a touch that soothes some of Sam’s suffering.

Afterwards, Naryu studies her handiwork and nods to herself.  
“Hmm. I have to acknowledge that I did a damn fine job.”

Sam doesn’t quite know how to respond and snickers.  
“Always ready to praise yourself, huh?”

“An artist requires a modicum of self-respect, my dear.”

“I think you’re being a little too generous.”  
The altmer tilts her head up, so that she can also observe the symbol imprinted in her skin. It’s sore and a bit haphazard right now, but she’s sure it’ll get better.  
“Hmm. Fine, it does look pretty decent.”

One of Naryu’s hands suddenly slides up along the abdomen and begins to stroke along the bottom of Sam’s breasts. An exceptionally pleased smirk materializes on the assassin’s features.  
“And best of all, now anyone who spends a night with you will know exactly who you belong to.”

Sam shifts to stare incredulously at the dunmer at first, getting the impression that it’s a little excessive, but this soon transforms into laughter.  
“Not so much a gift after all, was it?”

The assassin’s fondling intensifies, as she grinds herself against Sam’s thighs, leans down and plants several slow and enticing kisses along the center of the stomach.  
“Well, it was a gift for us both. But mostly me. You’re so much more…exquisite now.”

The altmer giggles and shuts her eyes, running her hands through the black hair of her lover as she decides to revel in the passionate ministrations.  
“What about the Tong? Are you sure they won’t object to this?”

“Oh, they will, no question.”

“…what? But didn’t you say-“

“But that shouldn’t be an issue now, should it? It’ll only be seen if you don’t wear a shirt. All you have to do is not sleep with any other Morag Tong agents. Even you can manage that much, no?”

A heavy, frustrated and simultaneously resigned sigh leaves Sam’s lips.  
“…sometimes, I wonder if you’re indirectly trying to get me killed.”

“Everyone needs a little excitement in their daily lives, hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You know what the funny thing is? This part was originally the full extent of the fic. When we're given the Morag Tong tattoos in game, I felt like that would be a decent little story, since I hadn't written anything with these two in a while. And then I played Summerset, which pushed me over the edge and transformed it from one chapter to five._   
>  _Anyway, thanks to the people that have read, given kudos and/or commented on this story!_


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